“Tonight, at ten, you must choose a paper effigy in the shop and form a blood pact with it.”

　　Lu Yaqi’s face was grave, her tone stripped of any hint of jest—as if this were a matter of life and death.

　　“What?”

　　My heart jolted. I pretended not to understand, eyes wide as I stared at her. But Lu Yaqi only fixed me with a hard, penetrating gaze, sharp enough to pierce straight through me, as though every thought I had lay exposed.

　　“Only a paper effigy bound to you by blood can purge the corpse poison,” she said, pausing on each word, as if stating a self-evident truth.

　　“I… I won’t. I’m not choosing.”

　　I waved my hands and shook my head in a panic. Fear crawled up my spine. Every paper figure in the shop had been crafted by Lu Yaqi herself—twisted faces, warped forms. One glance was enough to set your nerves on edge. I wanted nothing to do with such uncanny things.

　　Lu Yaqi suddenly smiled.

　　That smile flickered like ghost-fire over a grave at night, seeping into my chest and casting a cold, spreading shadow.

　　“You have to pick one,” she said flatly. No room for negotiation.

　　At that moment, from the corner of my eye, I saw the shadows of the paper figures begin to writhe. Their once-clear human outlines blurred, like ink dropped onto rice paper, slowly bleeding outward until they became indistinct smears. The shapes no longer looked human at all, but like some fanged, clawed monstrosity baring itself at me, ready to tear me apart.

　　Thump.

　　My heart spasmed. A chill shot from my feet straight to my skull, every hair on my body standing on end. Fighting the terror, I scanned the shop, then forced myself to speak, my voice trembling:

　　“Then… you pick one for me.”

　　Lu Yaqi stared at me for a long while. Her gaze felt like a blade scraping over my skin. Finally, she raised a finger and pointed to a paper figure in the distance.

　　I followed her gesture—and my heart sank.

　　Damn it. Wasn’t that the paper bride? The one with a locust-wood tongue carved with someone’s birth date and hour?

　　The paper bride wore a blazing red wedding gown and an ornate phoenix crown. Her face was caked in heavy makeup, yet instead of festivity it radiated something deeply wrong. Her lips were pulled into an unnatural forty-five-degree smile, revealing that locust-wood tongue engraved with someone’s bazi. At first glance, she looked exactly like a malevolent spirit lurking beneath a veneer of celebration.

　　“No way…” I muttered despite myself. My brow knotted tight, my whole body shaking. With a quavering voice, I asked, “Why her?”

　　Lu Yaqi let out a hee-hee laugh, sharp and shrill, like the cry of an owl slicing through the night—enough to make your skin crawl.

　　“She’s the one I made with my own hands. She knows me best.”

　　She paused on purpose, then her voice dropped suddenly, low and hollow, as if drifting up from the depths of the underworld.

　　“And besides… she’ll bring you good luck.”

　　The unease in my chest deepened. Something about her words felt ominous, as though a dreadful turn of events was already gathering momentum.

　　“No. I can’t pick her.”

　　I shook my head frantically, almost pleading. “Could you… choose another one for me?”

　　“What—do you think she’s ugly?”

　　Lu Yaqi’s expression darkened in an instant. Her once-mild tone turned icy, as if a layer of frost had swept across the room.

　　“…No.”

　　I denied it at once, eyes darting away, unable to meet hers. I stumbled through an explanation.

　　“It’s just that she’s… she’s a bit too special.”

　　“Special—in a good way.”

　　A satisfied smile returned to Lu Yaqi’s face, one that made my scalp prickle even more. As she spoke, she pressed the paper bride into my hands.

　　“Since you think she’s special, let her stay with you.”

　　I took the paper bride with trembling hands. She felt impossibly heavy, as though I were holding a slab of ice-cold stone weighing a thousand jin, the chill seeping from my palms straight into my heart. Looking closer, I saw that her locust-wood tongue was carved with funerary bazi, every turn of the strokes neatly dotted with three grains of burial rice—an eerie precision. The pearls on her phoenix crown glimmered with an ill omen in the dim light; up close, they turned out to be cat’s-eye stones soaked in corpse oil. The tassels hanging down were braided from the fetal hair of a girl who had died young, giving off a faint, nauseating stench. Even the lining of the wedding robe revealed half a strip of a dead man’s sash, adding yet another layer of chill to the sight.

　　“Thank you.”

　　I forced the words out through clenched teeth, tugging my lips into a smile that looked worse than crying.

　　Lu Yaqi studied me, clearly pleased with my reaction. She gave another uncanny smile.

　　“Bring the paper bride. I’m taking you somewhere.”

　　“Where?”

　　I asked, uneasy and confused.

　　“You’ll see when we get there.”

　　With that, she grabbed me without further explanation and dragged me out of the paper-effigy shop.

　　We twisted left and right, threading our way through several narrow, lightless alleys. The air was thick with rot; moss crawled up the walls, and the stone slabs underfoot were uneven and pitted, each step setting my nerves on edge. At last, a dilapidated temple loomed before us. Its plaque was long gone, leaving only a gaping, pitch-black doorway—like a row of mouths waiting to devour the living. One look was enough to make your blood run cold, as if stepping inside meant never coming back.

　　The moment I crossed the threshold, a wave of decay slammed into me, so strong it nearly stole my breath. Cobwebs blanketed the walls; dust and dead leaves lay thick in the corners, as though time itself had abandoned this place ages ago. In the dim, uncertain light stood several shattered idols, leaning askew. Their faces were ferocious, their forms grotesque, flickering in and out of shadow—as if they might tear free of their pedestals and come alive at any second.

　　In the open space before the temple sat a massive incense burner. It was crammed with burning sticks and candles, their flames wavering, smoke curling upward in slow spirals. The haze wrapped the entire place in a strange, uncanny aura, giving the unsettling illusion that this was a threshold to some unknown other world.️

　　Moving with deliberate care, Lu Yaqi carried the paper bride to the incense burner. Then she began fixing black talismans onto it, one after another, without pause. In the dim light, the talismans exuded a chilling presence, and the already uncanny paper bride grew even more unsettling—like something had been awakened within her, something dark and unwholesome.